


Child in a Seacave

by The_Red_Rabbit



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 05:23:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19289020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Red_Rabbit/pseuds/The_Red_Rabbit
Summary: Some time after the narrowly averted apocalypse, Crowley receives a message from God. But will he agree to answer her?





	Child in a Seacave

**Author's Note:**

> Michael Sheen, if you're reading this, either you or John Barrowman should adult adopt me and help me find a good agent so I can start my career in entertainment and actually get to hang out with my English girlfriend instead of being stuck in America all the time.
> 
> I'm kidding but also not kidding.

When the first letters arrived, Crowley chucked them out. No return address or postage stamps, his name scrawled on the front in beautiful flowing script...These bill collectors were getting crafty. He had no reason to believe this could be anything other than either a money making scheme or a solicitation from a magazine company desperate to have his subscription. So he thought nothing of throwing them out with all of the other mail that he didn’t read. Which was, to be fair, all the mail.

But then one day he decided to look closer at the envelope and noticed that there was a faint glow about them. There were no blemishes or creases or errant markings upon them whatsoever - they were immaculate and perfect in every way. The ink did not run or smear, and the paper did not tear in the hand. And he knew, suddenly, who these letters were from.

He did have to admit a bit of curiosity - the faintest bit of temptation to open the one he held in his hand that morning next to the kitchen table. But then he thought better of it. 

No, he thought. Whatever she had to say, she had 6,000 years to say. I don’t owe her anything.

“What’ve you got there, my dear?” Aziraphale asked absently, taking a sip from his morning coffee and not looking up from his book.

This snapped Crowley out of it. “Nothing,” he lied. “Wanting to know if we’d like to subscribe to Better Homes and Gardens.”

“What do we need two subscriptions for?” Aziraphale asked, absently.

Aziraphale had gotten a subscription for Crowley at one point, but Crowley never actually got around to reading it.

Crowley threw the letter in the trash, determined to think nothing else of it.

But it seemed a higher power had more determination to get him to read it.

Over the next few days he kept finding the letter in every pile of mail. He’d throw it away, he’d burn it, but he’d turn around and there it would be on the table. And still he said nothing to Aziraphale about it.

“Crowley, you do seem a bit distracted,” Aziraphale said to him, frowning. “Is something bothering you?”

“No nothing,” he insisted, feeling a bit guilty for the lie. “Don’t worry yourself, Angel.”

But on the third day of this, Aziraphale was up early and happened to be the one to get the mail.

“Crowley, something’s come in the post for you.”

He felt his heart drop. “You can just chuck that out, Aziraphale, it’s likely more spam. Who’d be writing a letter to me?”

But Aziraphale frowned at it. “Wait, hold on...This letter...has no return address. No postage stamps or anything. What kind of spam doesn’t give you anywhere to send back the money?”

“Then it’s a prank-”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, realizing what was going on. “You know this isn’t a prank. You know as well as I do who this is from.”

Crowley steeled himself, hating that it had come to this. “Right, well, yeah. I’ve been trying to avoid it actually. But she won’t leave me alone these past days-”

“Days?” Aziraphale asked, raising his eyebrows. “She’s been trying to communicate with you for days and you’re just now telling me this?”

“I was hoping that it wouldn’t come to this. That I could just...ignore it.”

“People have spent millennia trying to get a direct message from God, but you get one unprovoked and you want to ignore it?” 

“Yeah, pretty much, yeah. Especially now that she’s being a pest about it. Kinda feel like I’m getting my Hogwarts letter, that’s how impossible it’s been to get rid of these letters.”

“Your...your Hogwarts letter?” he was momentarily distracted. “Was that a literary reference?”

Crowley went on the defensive. “No. I just...I watched the movie once. Parts of it. On cable. At 3 am. While drunk. Don’t make it a big deal, Angel.”

Aziraphale simply looked at him for a moment, before heaving a sigh. “Well what’s she saying?”

“Who?”

“God, of course.”

“Oh I dunno. I haven’t opened the letters. Don’t want to give her the satisfaction.”

“You haven’t even…” the exasperation was beginning to get to him. “Crowley, aren’t you the least bit curious? I mean this is a good sign. She could’ve popped down to chat with you directly, upending your life, but she sent you a letter. That means you have the option to ignore it if you like.”

“What option? I don’t have an option!” Crowley was dripping with sarcasm now. “Aziraphale, any option of choice on this matter is a complete illusion - a fabrication, a mirage. Because she makes it seem like I can ignore her, but then the letters will just keep going until I give in and read one. It’s all a game to her. Like usual.”

“If that’s the case, then what would be so bad about ending the game on your own terms?”

Crowley had to admit that the angel was making a bit of sense. “Still I can’t...I won’t look at it.”

“What if I read it first, then? I’ll let you know if there’s anything good?”

Crowley hesitated, then nodded. And suddenly there was a palpable anxiety hanging in the air.

Aziraphale carefully broke the seal on the letter, but needn’t have bothered because it popped open easily without tearing. He removed a small slip of paper and read it to himself first.

“Well?” Crowley asked, squirming nervously.

“She says...she says ‘Aziraphale, I know Crowley doesn’t want to hear from me, so tell him that I would like to meet with him. It is time I explained everything. I would like to make amends with my son, if he would accept my invitation.’” Aziraphale looked up, the shock on his face evident. “A private audience with God? That’s...the highest honor.”

“Maybe for you,” Crowley shot back, irritated. “To me it’s just being summoned by mumsy after she spent years refusing to take my calls. I’ll pass.”

“But Crowley, you’ve got to at least hear what she has to say-”

“Absolutely not.”

“But Crowley,” Aziraphale tried one last time to appeal to him. “Nobody gets to speak with God directly. Not me, not the bloody priests...Not Gabriel. You realize doing this would be really sticking it to Gabriel. Could rub it in his smug face. You got to meet God and have a chat with her. Not Gabriel.”

Crowley found this the most tempting point yet. “Oh alright. But only to stick it to Gabriel.”

…

Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves at the predetermined rendezvous point outside a small seaside cabin on a rather desolate crag off the coast of Wales.

“How are you feeling?” Aziraphale asked him, anxiously. He took Crowley by the arms and peered into his face. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way-”

“Don’t give me that ‘Be Not Afraid’ claptrap, Angel,” Crowley grumbled, though he did have to admit he was comforted by Aziraphale’s presence. 

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Aziraphale reminded him. “You can still turn back if this is too much.”

“Now he tells me,” he said under his breath.

“I’m just saying that you don’t need this confrontation. We have our life together now, and nothing will take that away from us. We don’t need whatever she has to say, because it won’t actually change anything.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along, Angel,” Crowley replied. “But good to see that you agree.”

“So are you ready?” Aziraphale asked, uncertainly.

He nodded. “Let’s go give this bitch a piece of my mind.”

Crowley started towards the door and Aziraphale began wringing his hands anxiously. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” But he followed his to the door. They paused there and looked at each other uncertainly.

“After you,” Aziraphale said.

“No, after you,” Crowley insisted.

Aziraphale looked at him and held out a hand. “We go together?”

Crowley’s expression softened and he took the hand in his own as he used his other hand to open the door.

There was a flash of white light and they found themselves in a room that was all at once everywhere and nowhere. They were standing on solid ground, though also floating in space. The room was bright white, yet also simultaneously all the colors. And before them was a solid gold throne upon which was seated a woman that was simultaneously everyone you’d ever met and no one at all. The most familiar being yet also a complete stranger.  


“My angels,” God said, smiling graciously. “How lovely to see you. It has been quite some time since you’ve seen me, but I’ve been watching you.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Angels? I’m sorry, were you talking to us? I was rather under the impression that both of us had fallen for your esteem.”

“No never,” God said. “I love all my children.”

He scoffed. “Sure do have a funny way of showing it.”

God frowned, overcome with sorrow. “You have great pain, my darling son. I am afraid that I am a great cause of that suffering. My inaction has driven you to such great sorrow.”

“You’re damn right it has!” he spat.

“I understand that. I wish you would give me the chance to explain. This has been the plan all along.”

“The Ineffable Plan?” Aziraphale asked, eagerly.

God smiled fondly at her creation. “Yes, my child. The Ineffable Plan. It has always been to drive you two together.”

“I’m sorry, this is a lot,” Crowley cut in. “I’m not following.”

“I saw the factions in heaven beginning to split,” God explained. “And I could see that your choices would lead you to fall, my Crowley. But you were too good, deep down, too good to be good at being bad. You’d find your way back. You only had to have an angel to guide you back to the light. The plan all along was to set you up with Aziraphale. This whole Earth experiment has been for the two of you.”

“Wait I don’t...I don’t understand. All of this...all the suffering of not just me, but of billions of people on Earth...the whole bloody apocalypse was to give you a backdrop for a romantic comedy? Several thousand years of bloody period dramas?”

“Crowley, let’s not lose our temper-” Aziraphale warned him, squeezing his hand.

But Crowley was too far gone for that and dropped his hand as he walked towards her throne. “You realize that I spent millennia absolutely tormenting myself over falling? Agonizing about whether or not I’d made a mistake? And of course I did pretty well convincing myself I hadn’t - I mean, I got to travel, got to sample the pleasures of Earth which is so much better than the complete and utter boredom I remember from your kingdom! But still the niggling doubt would come to me in the middle of the night! And let’s not pretend that you were just passive to the whole falling thing! You cast me out! You made that decision! Where was that so-called forgiveness when I needed it?”

“There was never anything to forgive, Crowley,” God said. “I truly am sorry for what I’ve put you through.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like,” Crowley said, in a low voice. “What it’s like knowing that...deep down, you’re not worthy of love. Or forgiveness. Because you’re not good enough.”

Aziraphale felt his heart break hearing this, finally coming to a few simultaneous realizations. “Crowley-” he said, softly.

Crowley ignored this, not taking his eyes off God. “That’s supposed to be your whole thing, isn’t it, Mother? You love everyone. You forgive everyone. But not me.” He shook his head. 

“If it’s forgiveness that you desire, Crowley,” God said, softly. “Then you shall have it. I forgive you, my child.”

Something changed in him after hearing those words. “Huh. You know, I...I think, deep down, I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for 6,000 years...but...You know what, you can keep it. I don’t...I don’t want it anymore. It’s no good to me.”

Aziraphale walked up to him to peer in his face. “Crowley-” he began.

But Crowley held up a hand to stop him, without taking his eyes off God. “You know what, yeah. I don’t need your sodding forgiveness. You can keep it. Because I actually don’t need it. I always said that, but I think...I’m only now really believing that. Because this is funny, this is really...really quite funny. You say all of this was for me. For us.” He indicated himself and Aziraphale. “But you really made it quite difficult for us. Could’ve lifted a finger ages ago and said, ‘Hey it’s me, the Lord Your God, and I decree that this angel and this demon should be together. Also there should be world peace.’”

“There needed to be obstacles-” God tried to reason with him.

“Right, right, obstacles,” Crowley said. “Tests, always with your bloody tests. But still. It’s all bullshit. I’ve been in love with Aziraphale since the Garden. That’s a really bloody long time to be in love with someone in general, but especially when you think you’re not good enough for them. Spent all that time holding back because I believed to my core that I didn’t deserve his love. I still...I still do some days. And that’s what you did to me. Casting me out. Rejecting me. That just set me up to believe that that’s all I could possibly deserve.” He looked at Aziraphale then, taking his hands in both of his. “So it almost feels like a miracle that he...that he cares for me at all, considering what I am. And that I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Because I got to be with the love of my life.” He turned back to look at God, not dropping Aziraphale’s hands. “But that’s not some sick fantasy of yours. You don’t get to take credit for my feelings for him. Because you gave us all free will, and he chose me. I had it so backwards, thinking I needed anything from you. I don’t need to stand here and beg for your forgiveness. You need to beg for mine.”

And here we had, finally, an outcome that God hadn’t planned for. This wasn’t at all how she’d expected this conversation to go. 

Crowley turned back to Aziraphale. “Ready to go home, Angel?”

“Aziraphale,” God said. “You have to make him see reason.”

Aziraphale didn’t even look away from Crowley as he held up a hand to silence her. “I see no reason to do that. He’s said all he’s going to say.”

"But the Ineffable Plan-"

"Screw the great Ineffable Plan!" Aziraphale snapped. "We're done here."

They began walking away. 

God finally got up from her throne. “Crowley, please-” They turned around to face her so she chose her words very carefully. “Do you ever think you could? Forgive me?”

Crowley just looked at her gravely. “I’ll take it under consideration. But I don’t owe you anything. I'll let you know in, oh, maybe about 6,000 years?” Then they turned to go again.

“Crowley, Crowley please,” God was almost begging. “Aziraphale, my darling boys, please-” She cast around desperately for something to say and played the last card she had. "Raphael." Crowley paused, hearing the name he hadn't heard in over 6,000 years. "Raphael, my son, my archangel...Please, all I'm asking is just to heal things between us."

"Raphael?" Crowley tested the name and found it distasteful. "I haven't heard that name in so long I almost forgot it was once mine."

"It can be again. You can come home. You both can."

Crowley looked at Aziraphale. "I'm not the person you hoped I'd be, but that doesn't bother me anymore. I don't want the name you bestowed upon me. My name is Crowley. And I have a home. One I built without you. Angel, let's go home."

They took the door handle together. There was a flash of white light and they found themselves sitting at their kitchen table. Just the two of them. As it should be.

“Well that’ll be a hell of a story to tell Gabriel,” Crowley joked.

Aziraphale cracked a smile. “It most definitely will be. You never...told me that. About your God-given name.”

Crowley shrugged. "It didn't seem important. It wasn't me anymore by the time we met."

"It's painful for you."

"Of course it is."

"Do you ever miss it? Being an archangel?"

"Some parts of the job weren't bad. Were better than the whole...temptation business. I never did have the stomach for inflicting."

"Because you were the angel of healing. Of course you wouldn't have the stomach for it. I always...wondered what happened to Raphael. It was such a shock to everyone when he...when you fell. Even angels like me who'd never met you. The patron of healers, cast down for defying God."

"I always knew, deep down, that you'd've loved me more had I stayed Raphael. Raphael would've been good enough for you."

"What? No!" He was shocked that he'd suggest it. "I love you as you _are_ , Crowley. Not who you were once, but who you have become. And who we will become together." His expression softened. "Care for some tea?"

“And or something stronger,” he nodded.

Aziraphale began to get up to fix their drinks, but halfway through the motion decided to reach across the table and take Crowley’s hands in both of his. “I am proud of you,” he said. “It was very brave, what you said in there.”

Crowley had to admit to a bit of surprise. “But isn’t this the part where you tell me I have to forgive her? Because she’s my mother and our God and I must?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Once upon a time, I might’ve said that. But...now I think forgiveness is individual. And some people, if they’ve been put through so much, don’t owe their forgiveness to anyone. If it can protect you to withhold it, that’s up to you.”

“Thank you, Aziraphale.”

“For what?”

“For...for everything. For...for…” His mouth started to shape the words ‘loving me’, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. But Aziraphale understood.

“That’s not something you need to thank me for,” he said, kindly. “You make that part so easy. Well, most of the time.” They both smiled and chuckled. “Crowley, I do love you. Because you are deserving of love. And forgiveness. And just...so much happiness. And I, well, I almost hate that you’ve never thought you were good enough.”

“I almost believe it, when you say it.”

Aziraphale leaned across the table and kissed him. “Then I’ll say it every day until you believe it.”

Aziraphale turned his back to make the tea, and Crowley just looked at him for a moment. "You know, I was also the patron of marriage." He smirked a bit when Aziraphale got flustered and dropped the mug he was holding, shattering it. Crowley got up and miracled it back together.

"Yes, I suppose you were," Aziraphale said, being too flustered to look at him directly.

"Then what do you say, Angel?" He gazed down at the angel with no small amount of smugness.

"S-say...?" His eyes were so wide. "T-to what? You haven't actually asked me anything, Crowley."

"Obviously we couldn't get married in a church - consecrated ground and everything - and it would be a _very_ non-traditional ceremony to spite God."

"Wait, you're already planning it? You haven't asked me yet!"

"But would you say no if I did?"

He thought about this. "Suppose not." But he was suddenly a bit affronted. "But you could've tried for a _bit_ more romance than that, my dear."

"That would just be wasting time. I want to be married to you yesterday."

He smiled despite himself. "That's better."


End file.
